


Boardwalk

by ultimateparadox



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday, First Meetings, Gen, merman Keith, merman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimateparadox/pseuds/ultimateparadox
Summary: Hunk had a secret.It wasn't a harmful secret, so he didn't really feel bad about keeping it. But it was, in fact, a secret.
Relationships: Hunk & Keith (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Boardwalk

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Light mention of self-harm but it's not indicative of any dark themes in the fic!

Hunk had a secret.

It wasn't a harmful secret, so he didn't really feel bad about keeping it. But it was, in fact, a secret.

His sandals crunched on white pebbles before sinking into loose sand. He trudged along the beach until he reached the old boardwalk that was splintered in half from a storm. The ocean had reclaimed it long before Hunk had come into the world, leaving the tourist trap a briny ruin, half-submerged. Stands that once sold food or goods were empty and waterlogged if they remained at all. A ferris wheel was drowned, only its highest passenger cabins breaching when the tide was highest. Whatever hurricane had ruined the attraction had absolutely devastated it.

That didn't mean it was abandoned, though.

The wood creaked underneath his feet as Hunk carefully navigated the boardwalk. The dangerous spots were marked with reflective tape. He knew the way safely by now, but it was a nice reminder to watch his step. Reaching a ravaged hole like a ragged bite in the side of the boardwalk, Hunk grabbed for a relatively new length of braided rope that was tied with Boy Scout knots to the firmest debris he could find. He pulled and pulled until a metal pail, dented in the middle like a soda can, rose full of salt water. Wedged in the bend of the pail a hand bell was secured, and Hunk took it. Its clear chime echoed against the sound of the sea and the crying of gulls. Tucking the bell back in, Hunk plunged the pail back into the hole. It was time to wait.

Before long something shimmered under the surface of the water. It was hard to notice against the sun sparkling on the sea, but Hunk had become accustomed to the approach after all the days and weeks he'd visited. The subtle shifting of the shadows that didn't quite match the blinding reflection on the water was the only indicator that he was no longer alone.

A head emerged from the water, spraying droplets everywhere. Dark hair fell into their face, but couldn't quite block the grin there. It shook like a wet dog, flinging wet locks wildly until they could meet eye-to-eye. "Hunk!"

"Hey, Keith," Hunk greeted with a wave. He held up the gym bag he'd brought. "Come on up, buddy!"

The head vanished back into the water, which sent Hunk scrambling back to the edge of the safe zone. There was a powerful splash as the person's whole body, a human torso blending into a scaled, gunmetal gray tail, dove onto the groaning boardwalk. The landing was stuck with a heavy, wet slap.

Hunk's secret was the merman friend he'd made.

It had been an accident. Hunk wasn't adventurous by nature, so the spooky corpse of the boardwalk had been a zone he very particularly didn't go to. He was, however, empathetic, and it was a curse when he saw flailing splashes alongside one of the boardwalk's support posts. Whatever was caught in the shallows was struggling, and whether it was an animal belonging to the land or the sea he wouldn't let it meet its grave and so headed across the sand.

To his extreme surprise, it had been a young man with a massive fish tail for a bottom half, snarling with a mouth of sharp teeth, and fighting against a thick cable that had wound its way around his left forearm. He recognized the remains of hole-ridden, plastic, and sun-bleached flags attached to it that told him it used to be a colorful party banner. Surrounding the constriction on the pale arm were red scores from claws and puncturing bite wounds, indicating its desperation to free itself. 

Hunk had gotten a nasty nip on his own arm when, in its struggles, the merman had reacted with fear and aggression to his attempts to free it. When Hunk ignored the sting and managed to loosen the coil from its raw skin, it calmed to merely watching him anxiously. As soon as it was free, Hunk found himself eating surf after he was knocked back by that powerful tail as it made its escape. Body sore, Hunk hadn't begrudged the creature for its fight and flight responses, but the pink punctures on his arm from the bite was a souvenir he could do without and he did begrudge having to hide that from his _tinā_. Hide them he did, and his entire encounter with the wayward merman.

The toothy scars still remained a year later, a little pockmarked and uneven with his skin tone, but he didn't resent them anymore, the mark of violence now something Hunk looked at with fondness. He’d come to know the headstrong merman has a person, with his own identity and dreams. Keith was kind, brave, and absorbed information like a sponge. It had taken Hunk a while to learn these things, but he had.

Meeting the second time had been interesting. Hunk had returned to the boardwalk with a box of 20-gallon trash bags, a pool net, and a roll of reflective tape to begin a ritual of cleaning up the worst of the forgotten refuse around the rickety area. While he was dragging the net through the murk he heard a soft growl. He froze, feeling eyes on him, and without turning his head he watched the innards of the wrecked boardwalk. They said staring into the abyss meant the abyss stares back, but Hunk didn't think the saying meant a literal pair of dark eyes in a slim, white face. Slowly, Hunk continued to scrape his net through the water and foam. The eyes never strayed from him until Hunk finished for the day. 

They returned the day after that, and the day after that, and so on until one day Hunk caught the merman half-beached, shoving loose trash onto the sand. When he saw Hunk approach, he dug the heels of his hands into the sand and flipped back into the waves, retreating into the boardwalk's guts. 

Together they cleaned the beach. The water became a little clearer, and the merman became less wary. Hunk would observe his shape snaking through boards and slats, catching little beams of light on his gray body that reflected back like moonlight. There was an understanding between them that Hunk respected.

"There are sharp things in that one," were the first words Keith ever said to him. Hunk was reaching down for half a 2x4 with visible nails poking out of it, and when the merman spoke he screamed. The merman's eyes widened, but he did not spook. Slowly, as thought not to startle further, a clawed hand reached out of the water and pointed at the board. "Be careful."

Communication was the final piece to the puzzle of their burgeoning friendship. Sometimes Hunk would come down without his cleaning gear and would picnic on the sand and talk with him until the tide rose and threatened his food and blankets. They developed the bell system in order to meet up easier. He would share food with the merman, whose name was a series of harsh consonants above the water and he let Hunk call him Keith instead. Keith was enamored by sweets and candy, particularly pop rocks, but he seemed less fond of popcorn and foods that got stuck in his teeth. Meats were good but the more well-done it was the less interested Keith became in chewing. Greens were also acceptable, but Hunk understood they weren't exciting.

Food was a love language, Hunk knew. His family raised him on cooking: for family, for fun, for gratitude, for love. Every person on land Hunk had ever cared about had been subject to his love language, woven like meticulous poetry tailored to every individual, fed to bursting with favorites and nostalgia. There was no reason to withhold that ever-expanding love from the sea.

"Got something for you today," Hunk told Keith once he was sure his brand of chaotic wet-dog energy wouldn't get him soaked. Keith, drying in the carefully designated Landing Zone, looked up eagerly.

"You always bring good foods," he replied in his choppy accent. It was tinted with whatever his first language was and the local accent of the area. Hunk loved how distinct it was. "Is it sweet?"

"Oh, definitely." Hunk answered as he approached. An excited slap of the tail met the boardwalk planks. "Do you remember that time we talked about birthdays?"

Keith nodded. "Something about cal-en-dars. Yours is in the freezing season, you said? It is becoming cold. You explained the gift giving ritual, so I will find you something. I also think your birth is something to celebrate."

Hunk lurched back, hand on his heart. "Oh, wow."

"Are you harmed?" Keith asked, alarmed.

"No, no," Hunk was quick to assure. "Just touched. Very moved. Thank you, Keith."

"You are welcome. Do we move to the beach for a pic-nic?" Keith asked. He squirmed like he was going to drop back into his hole in order to swim to the shore. 

"Nah, let's stay here today. Another question: do you remember cupcakes?" Keith's happy series of clicking told Hunk that he did. "Well, cupcakes are tiny cakes. And on birthdays, we tend to have full-sized cakes in these parts."

"Full?"

Hunk unzipped his bag and lifted the white box out. Popping the lid, he let Keith peer into its contents. The cake inside was simple and circular with fluffy buttercream frosting. In looping cursive Hunk had piped Keith’s name in red, surrounded by tiny blue shapes that were approximately fish. "They come in all shapes and sizes, but they're much bigger, see?"

"I can smell the sugar," Keith said with awe. "Who are we celebrating?"

The moment Hunk had been waiting for had arrived. "You, bud."

Keith looked surprised. "Me?"

"Yeah! You said you didn't know your birthday, but it's been about a year since we first met. So it's actually an anniversary, but it's kinda like a birthday since it's the day you first showed up in my life. So, happy annibirthday Keith!"

Clicks and chirps rattled in Keith's throat. "Me?" He asked again, nervous with disbelief.

Hunk stuck a finger in the cake's frosting and then dotted it on Keith's nose. "Yeah."

"O-on your human cal-en-dar, what day is it?"

"October 23rd. Late autumn."

"Autumn...the cooling season. Oct-o-ber. Twenty-three." Keith murmured to himself. He swiped the offending frosting off his nose, licking it off his claws. "Thank you. Thank you, Hunk."

"I'm going to make you a bigger one for next year."

"Wh—!"

"You deserve it. Thanks for hanging around, Keith."

"...Thanks for coming around, Hunk."


End file.
